


Leader(s)

by orphan_account



Series: Hermitcraft Strange Enough AU [2]
Category: Hermitcraft
Genre: Gen, Hermitcraft - Freeform, hermitcraft fusion au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 17:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A lazy day at the beach brings up questions that need to be answered. It just so happens that showing is an easier answer than telling for these questions.





	1. Leader(s) - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again!  
> I told myself that I’d just do a few one shots, and then this turned into a two shot. Odds are the next one’s going to be a full fledged novel.  
> :/  
> But anyway, the designs for the fusions are from Team-Star-Ghast-Cannon on tumblr, as well as a few bits and pieces of their personality. There’ll be more notes at the very end of the fic!  
> Also, this takes place before the events of The Warning! I don’t know exactly when, but between the Prank War and that. Yeah! Enjoy!

The sunrise painted the sky and water with soft, warm colors. Fish and dolphins jumped and played in the waves, greeting the morning. Above them, the ashes of a few stray phantoms floated down towards the earth.

On the beach, two men lounged in the sand.

Grian lay face down, wings outstretched, cheek pressed against the cool ground. He walked the line between wakefulness and sleep, eyelids fluttering.

Doc sat at the edge of the beach, wrapped in a blanket that was actually the flags of the two teams from the war. It was sewn together crudely, but with love. His feet dangled in the water, and he kept half an eye on his fishing rod, propped up on a rock. The rest of his attention was on what appeared to be a crumpled photograph resting on his lap.

The fishing rod moved, and he quickly put the photo away, reeling in- 

A pair of leather boots.

He sighed, pulling them off of his hook and tossing them down, then flopping over backwards and wrapping his blanket tighter around himself.

Grian slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking blearily. “No luck?”

“No.” Doc said, staring up at the slowly lightening sky. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

“I don’t think anybody can predict what they’re gonna fish up.” Grian said, sitting up and shaking the sand out his wings. “Ugh.”

“Ugh?” Doc asked, turning towards him.

“Sand and feathers aren’t a very good combination.” Grian explained, folding his wings behind him. “I’ll have to groom them once I get back.”

Doc hummed, sitting up as well.

For a moment, there was silence, as they both gazed out to sea. The sun had almost cleared the water.

“Grian,” Doc said eventually. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, sure. Shoot.” 

“During the war,” Doc spoke slowly, thinking out how to phrase what he was going to say carefully. “You remember when you and Iskall and Mumbo fused, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Grian chuckled. “It was really something, huh?”

“It was the scariest moment in my life.” Doc said, chuckling a little bit as well. “A bright flash, and suddenly this... dude, with so many eyes and wings is standing right in front of me where three people used to be. I could barely move it was such a shock.”

“You weren’t the only one that was startled. It was a complete accident.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It just sort of... happened. I mean, you know as much as the rest of us do about fusion. It happens when two or more people are in sync mentally or emotionally or whatever enough that they...” Grian laced his fingers together. “Meld. Fuse. You know. And we were just all thinking the same thing, and you pushed us into a corner, and next thing we knew, ‘we’ became ‘I’.”

“What was it like?” Doc asked.

“It’s weird. That’s for sure.” Grian drew squiggles in the sand next to him with a finger. “You stop being yourself, if you do it right, and you become... a mixture of the people that you fused with. Someone entirely new.”

“But you’re still conscious, even though you aren’t yourself?”

“Sort of... It’s hard to explain.” Grian said, flattening his drawing. Doc watched him silently. “It might be easier...”

Grian’s eyes widened, and he turned towards Doc suddenly. “I could show you, if you’d like.”

“What? You mean? Us? Fusing? Here? Now?” Doc sputtered. “What?”

“Yeah! I can’t explain it very well, but if you could see it for yourself, I know you’d get it. We don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course-“ Grian said, scrambling to his feet and holding out a hand.

Doc grabbed Grian’s hand and let himself be pulled to his feet, blanket falling onto the sand. “No, no. Let’s do it! I just- how? Don’t you need strong emotions- strong similar emotions- to fuse?”

“Not all the time. You can sync yourself up with whoever you want to fuse with by dancing with them!”

“Do you know how to dance?” Doc asked.

Grian’s face went red. “I mean, no. Not really. Mumbo and Iskall were the ones that choreographed the dance we use to fuse into Architect. I had to do a dance class for gym back when I was still in school, but...”

“Well, I cant really dance either...” Doc said, rubbing his chin. “But I might be able to manage a basic waltz... wait, why dancing? There’s no music.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, if we manage it. Do you still want to try?”

“I mean, I don’t have anything better to do.” Doc said. “So I’ll lead?”

“If I lead, we’ll probably end up in the water.” Grian said, smiling. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Doc’s shoulder and taking his other hand. Doc hesitantly put his free hand on Grian’s hip, and looked at him questioningly.

“We just dance? With no music? You’re not pulling a prank on me?”

“No pranks. I promise.”

Doc nodded, and stepped forward. Grian stepped back in response, trying not to trip over his own feet.

They started off slowly, just moving back and forth across the sand until they had gotten comfortable. Doc increased the tempo slightly, and then froze as what sounded to be a single violin held out a note.

“What was-“ He turned to Grian to find him beaming at him.

“Don’t stop now! It’s working!”

Doc made a face, but started again, glancing around as more instruments began to join in, music floating through the air.

As the music continued, he started to relax, his movements becoming more fluid and a smile growing on his face.

The music crescendoed, and the sun rose ever so slightly higher in the sky as the duo’s variations began to get more elaborate. After a particularly complicated one, Doc stumbled, and Grian found himself falling backwards. A jolt of panic went through him-

And then abruptly, his fall was stopped. Doc caught him with his head only about a foot off the ground. It looked more like he was being dipped than being dropped.

Doc grinned at him. “What, did you think I actually dropped you? I’m not that uncoordinated.”

Grian couldn’t help but laugh. “You jerk!” He shifted his weight back, and Doc made a startled noise as he tipped forward.

They tumbled down the sandy bank, laughing, and the world went white as they hit the water.

He sat up, still laughing, and shook his head, feeling the water spray in an arc around him. He moved to stand up, and then froze.

His arms were... not... right...

“Oh my God!” He said, jumping to his feet. He sloshed towards the shore, and bent over in the shallows, touching his face with one hand and grinning at his reflection. “It worked!”

“It worked!” He cried, jumping up again at laughing as the water splashed around him. “I’m something new! I’m someone new! I’m me!”

He froze, the water lapping at his calves. “Who am?”

He made his way out of the water, grabbing the blanket and the fishing rod and stowing them away, his wings opening and closing-

Wings.

He had wings.

Holy sh-!

He spread his wings so quickly he nearly knocked himself over, hopping in circles trying to look at them.

There was a strange tugging sensation in the back of his head as someone laughed.

_‘Calm down, man! They’re just wings!’_

_‘But they’re attached! You don’t get it-‘_

He found himself being steered back to the edge of the water and gazing into it. He absently traces the shape of his face with one hand, opening and closing his wings.

_’You’ve always had wings, but I fly using elytra.’_

They were huge, beautiful wings, like a dragon’s. The top of one had been replaced with cybernetics, along with half of his face and most of his torso and arms. Two sharp fangs emerged from where his mouth should be- did he have a mouth? It felt like it was there. It just... he just didn’t see it. His skin was a pale green, lighter than his- what. Lighter than- ah.

Lighter than Doc’s. Not his.

That made more sense.

He squinted at himself in the water, and ran a hand through his hair. Parts of it were already flecked with grey, and he had barely been himself for more than a minute or two.

It kind kind of make him look refined, he thought, standing up and stretching. Or was that the word he was looking for? Maybe regal? Kind of leaderly.

And the voices in the back of his head were leaders. He sat down on the beach for a moment, thinking back through their memories. 

They had done a lot.

But he was both of them combined. What could he do?

He had wings. Why not start off with a test flight?

He moved into a crouching position, and spread his wings. He hesitated for a moment, debating on whether or not to try to start from higher up, and then just leapt.

He flew upwards like an arrow out of a crossbow, the wind whistling through his hair, and he laughed. The clouds seemed to part to let him through, and he finally stopped trying to go further upward when the air started to thin. 

The sun beat down nearly directly above him, and the clouds seemed to go on forever. He hovered there for a moment, and then a rumbling in the distance made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He turned towards where the sound came from, hardly breathing. “A storm’s coming.”

_‘Doc, don’t.’_

_‘We can’t not.’_

The first voice grumbled a little bit, trying to tug him down below the clouds, memories coming up of being buffeted by too strong winds, being forced out of the sky by lightning. 

_‘A storm on the ground is a lot different from a storm up here.’_

He reached out a hand, and there was a sizzling sound as a trident appeared in it, sparks and embers dancing between the prongs before fading to nothingness.

The voices went silent, and the tugging sensation vanished.

He tucked his wings close to his body, and dove towards the dark clouds gathering on the horizon.


	2. Leader(s) - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there anything more exhilarating than a storm?

He could feel his hair standing on end as he hovered in the eye of the storm. The air was hot and damp, and so heavy he could almost feel it pressing him towards the ground.

Each wingbeat bobbed him up and down, correcting his position ever so slightly to stay in what the tech in his eye told him was the exact center of the eye of the storm.

It was going to be a mother of a storm. He could feel it, in his tech, in the air, deep in his bones. One of his pieces was a creature of the sky, and the other was of the sea and the storm. Every part of him, whether it came from them or it was just him, told him that it was going to be big.

And yet, the clouds rolled on peacefully, swollen and heavy but without releasing a drop of rain or an ounce of electricity.

Excuse him, a joule of electricity. Where did that measurement come from? Ounces have nothing to do with...

Hm.

Maybe what the storm needed was a push in the right direction. 

He spun his trident in his hands, watching as sparks appeared and fizzled out next to the points. 

“Here goes nothing.” He said, and he raised the trident above his head, reaching out-

Well, no. It was more reaching in, through himself to the center of it all. The center of him.

His eyes narrowed and the air began to smell of ozone.

Was it tricky, to coax the lightning out? Not particularly. Was it tricky to get it to do what he wanted, to run through him like a lightning rod?

Maybe a little bit more so, but as he watched the electricity arc up and down his arms, winding its way around the trident, as he felt his hair stand on end and as the world seemed to pause-

Any difficulty was forgotten.

He thrust the trident to the sky, letting loose a howl that would have sent shivers down anyone’s spine had they heard it, and the clouds exploded.

He tucked his wings to his sides, and dove down through the now raging storm, laughing. The rain came down in sheets. Lightning sparked and thunder rumbled all around him. The wind roared, protesting his presence, trying to throw him out of the sky, but he just roared back.

He pulled up just before he hit the ground, swooping around lightning strikes and back up into the air. On the ground below him, a zombie groaned. He barely had to think about it, just pointing his trident and a lightning bolt turned it to nothing but a steaming pile of rotten flesh.

The storm swept over the main island, and he went with it, swooping past bases that registered vaguely in his mind. A few figures still battled against the torrential rain, shouting after him as he flew by, but he paid them no notice.

Then, as the front of the storm reached the shopping district, he noticed a figure climbing to the top of the stock exchange.

Strange.

Intriguing.

He swooped down, landing on the top of the mountain just as the figure pulled itself over the ridge. 

It was a man, with a beard and thick brown hair. One of his eyes was a prosthetic.

 _‘Iskall.’_ The voices in his head said immediately. _‘But who did he fuse with?’_

He wore a hoodie without sleeves, and gloves that didn’t cover his fingers or the back of his hands or most of his wrist area. How incredibly useless.

He stood up straighter when he saw him. “Are you the one that caused this?” He growled, voice carrying even through the drumming of the rain.

He shrugged, leaning on his trident nonchalantly. “Who wants to know?”

“They call me Watchdog.” He said, tilting his chin up. “I protect this building.”

“Do you? Well, Watchdog,” He said, standing up and walking closer to him, noting the way that the other’s lip curled and how he stiffened as he got nearer to him. “What makes you think that you can protect this building against a storm like this?”

_’Why are we walking like that?’_

He frowned as the voices decided to chime in, step faltering, causing Watchdog’s brow to furrow. 

_’What do you mean? We’re just walking?’_

_‘No, we’re walking weird. We’re... prowling.’_

He glared, ignoring the tugging at the back of his mind, continuing to move towards Watchdog, who growled under his breath. “I don’t protect it from the weather.” He said. “I protect it from people. Possibly people like you.”

“You see me as the type to rob a stock exchange?”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

He nodded slowly, and raised his trident. Watchdog went for a knife on his hip- and then a bolt of lightning glanced off of the trident, striking the side of the mountain with a burst of sparks. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“We should get off the roof.” He said, and ran forward, grabbing Watchdog around the waist and jumping off of the roof, ignoring how the other wriggled and protested.

They landed clumsily, and Watchdog stumbled backwards, knife now out and pointing directly at his throat. “Never do that again.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, stowing away his trident. “Alright, alright. Calm down.”

“Who are you?” Watchdog asked, sheathing his knife, but not relaxing. 

“My name is Leader. My components are Grian and Doc. They say hello.”

The other was quiet for a moment, then began to move towards the door of the stock exchange, calling over his shoulder: “Ren and Iskall send their greetings. Come inside.”

The sound of the rain drumming on the roof was comforting, and as he stepped inside, Leader realized how cold he was. He resisted the urge to shake himself off, and instead made do with wiping his feet. 

Watchdog took a few steps, then vaulted onto one of the columns, quickly and almost effortlessly climbing to the balcony in front of the office. “Are you coming?” He asked.

“Coming.” He said, cautiously opening his wings. Barely enough room. He crouched down, and hopped up to the balcony with a few quick flaps, folding his wings behind him neatly. “So... you protect this building?”

“The diamonds got stolen once. I won’t let them get taken again.” Watchdog wandered around the office, picking up a picture frame to find it empty, and setting it back on the table.

“A guard dog... is that where you got your name from?” Leader asked, gazing at the empty picture frame. He looked down, and pushed his hand into his pants pocket, pulling out a worn photograph.

“Yes, mostly. It also just sounds pretty cool.” Watchdog sighed, picking up the figurine on the desk and then setting it back down again. “Well, this wasn’t a good idea.”

“It wasn’t?” He asked, moving over to the desk and unfolding the photo. He opened the frame, and slid it in. It fit perfectly.

“I’m not good at talking to people. Or being in small, enclosed spaces. We should’ve stayed outside.”

“But then I would have to keep making sure you didn’t get struck by lightning every five seconds.” He tilted his head as he looked at the people in the picture. They felt familiar... but when he tried to remember, he found nothing. Just an empty, vague sadness. A hint of nostalgia, of missing something.

Watchdog rolled his eyes. “You’re the conductor, not me. Oh, hey, wanna hear a joke?”

“Is it the one about the conductor being the first one struck by lightning in an orchestra?” Leader asked, putting the frame down and raising an eyebrow.

“No. How many endermen does it take to change a lightbulb?”

“I don’t know, how many?”

“I don’t know either. Whenever I try to see, I end up getting chased away.” Watchdog grinned.

Leader grinned back. “That was really bad.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Maybe a lot.”

“You still thought it was funny.”

“... Maybe a little.” Leader chuckled, and he followed Watchdog out of the office, photograph forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Me again.  
> Once again, the fusions and their designs belong to Team-Star-Ghast-Cannon on tumblr, and the whole thing about the picture is based off of a drawing they made that gave me a lot of emotions. 
> 
> I hope you all liked the story!


End file.
